


all we have now is what we choose to remember over and over again

by Shadowcrawler, unwindmyself



Series: cause in our greatest conquest we are what fate depends [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Asgardian Magic (Marvel), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Blindfolds, Bondage, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, F/F, Feelings, Femslash, Gags, Horseback Riding, Long-Distance Relationship, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Strap-Ons, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 04:40:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19738495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcrawler/pseuds/Shadowcrawler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwindmyself/pseuds/unwindmyself
Summary: Sif sends Wanda an invitation to visit her in New Asgard.





	all we have now is what we choose to remember over and over again

**Author's Note:**

> Shadowcrawler was having lunch at work and heard one of the higher-ups at her company say something gross about kinky sex and BDSM. She then decided she would go home and spite-write a bunch of pleasant and consensual kinky sex, and we were going to get around to this one anyway.

_Wanda,_

_I hope this message finds you well. I have been thinking of you often since I arrived in New Asgard. My Queen has told me of the great battle where Thanos was finally slain once and for all, and that you and the rest of your team have been able to rest. I hope it is not too much of an imposition to invite you to visit me in New Asgard. Please send your reply with Felman, the raven who delivered it. I look forward to seeing you again._

_Yours,_

_Sif_

Wanda blinks down at the letter in her hands - it seems to be written on actual _parchment_ , which she’s realizing she’s never actually held before - and then before she realizes it she’s grinning uncontrollably. A mail-delivering raven would only come from New Asgard, but everyone at the compound had thought that the note’s author would be said queen and that its message would be something official and businesslike. Even Wanda had been surprised when the bird had stared her down and insistently offered the envelope: what would the Valkyrie Queen want with _her_? 

But it wasn’t - isn’t - from Valkyrie at all. It’s from Sif, Sif who’s been who knows where doing who knows what, Sif who wants to see her, who’s offering her…

Well.

She hurries into the kitchen, knowing _someone_ will be there. (Helping with massive construction projects creates an appetite, and besides that, the kitchen was one of the first parts of the living quarters finished. Half of them still may be crashing on air mattresses that are in turn on bare floors, but damn it, they needed a place to put the refrigerator.) Sure enough, Sam is sitting at the counter, drinking one of his healthy juice things.

“Hey,” Sam says with a friendly nod. “What are you up to? Did we figure out what that weird bird wanted?”

“It’s a messenger raven,” Wanda says, sort of like he should have been able to figure that out. “He’s outside waiting for me to return with a response. Do you have a pen?”

Sam rummages around in his pockets for a second and retrieves a pen. “Here. What’s a messenger raven want with you specifically?”

“It’s from Sif, ah, Lady Sif,” Wanda says. “You remember, Thor’s friend? She’s met up with the other Asgardians and wanted to invite me to, ah.” She clears her throat and tries to will herself to stop blushing. “Visit.”

Grinning, Sam raises his eyebrows. “Oh yeah, I remember her. You two were _close_.”

Wanda rolls her eyes and goes to get a glass of water. “We get on well,” she says curtly.

“So are you gonna go?” 

“It might be nice,” she says. “Not that I haven’t enjoyed all of the heavy lifting I’ve been doing, of course.” She flashes him an ironic smile. Sam is someone she can tease and joke with like a brother, and she’s nothing but grateful for this. “But I’ve never been to Norway, and I’m…”

There are two ends to that sentence: the first is that she’s genuinely excited by the prospect of seeing Sif again after all this time and the second is that she’s exhausted. She’s been using her powers for what feels like hours at a time every day, she’s still sorting through the trauma of disappearing for five years after having to kill her romantic partner and then finding out that one of her other closest people had died trying to bring everyone back, she’s having dreams so intense that she’s popped more than one air mattress. She’s not sure she needs to explain any of that. Sam already knows.

Sam nods. “If any of us have earned a break, it’s you, Wanda.”

“That’s not true,” Wanda says quickly. “We’ve all been working harder than we ever thought possible.”

“Yeah, but not all of us have been moving shit with our powers pretty much nonstop,” Sam points out with a wry smile. “You should have a break.”

“You have had to fly a lot of things,” Wanda says. “Scott and Hope have become small and fixed wiring. The raccoon made things explode the last time he was here.”

“I think he would’ve done that either way,” Sam replies, but then he adds more seriously, “As the guy who’s basically in charge now, I’m telling you to take a break.”

“Alright, boss,” she replies, giving him a wry salute. “Then I’ll tell her… how long would it take the messenger raven to deliver my message?”

He laughs. “I dunno, like a week maybe? I guess it has to fly across the ocean, but I think it’s also magic, so.”

“Could I tell her I’ll be there in a week? Do you think that would give the raven enough time, even considering magic? I don’t want to appear unannounced.”

“I have a feeling she’s expecting you to show up ASAP,” teases Sam. “Besides, if she’s working for Valkyrie, she’s probably not hurting for living space.”

“I don’t know how big New Asgard really is, though,” Wanda frets. 

“Aw,” snickers Sam. “You’re nervous, aren’t you? That’s cute.”

“I don’t want to be impolite!” But after a second, Wanda has to sigh. “Would it be completely foolish if I was?”

“Nah. You haven’t been with a lot of people besides her and Vision, have you?” When Wanda shakes her head, Sam continues, “It’s totally normal to feel nervous about seeing someone you’re into after a long time apart.”

“It seems so trivial after everything we’ve been through, though,” she murmurs.

“It’s not trivial. It’s just feelings. It’s normal.”

“That’s one of the only things I don’t understand,” she admits.

Grinning, Sam says, “I don’t think a lot of us understand it, to be honest. It just kinda...happens. You’ll be okay.”

Wanda stares at him for a minute, like she’s trying to put something together, and finally she says, “I will be coming to you for all of my relationship advice from now on. You don’t blush.”

“Aw, shucks.” He winks at her. “I’m just old and hard to embarrass, that’s all.”

“Age hasn’t stopped others from getting embarrassed,” she points out.

“True, but Steve’s just not good at this stuff, and Bucky and Bruce are even worse. I’m starting to think maybe a requirement for working with SHIELD is you gotta be totally useless at relationships.”

“Don’t forget Clint,” Wanda smirks. “He has a wife, and he still doesn’t understand anything.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how he managed that. There’s someone for everyone, I guess.” Sam laughs. “Anyway. She clearly likes you, you’ll be fine.”

She finishes scribbling her note (on the back of Sif’s, partially because she doesn’t want to go hunt down more paper and partially because she enjoys the novelty of writing on parchment) and returns Sam’s pen as she heads for the door. “You should also plan to take a break,” she says. “There is a lot on your shoulders.”

Sam shrugs. “I mean, I figure we’ll all take a break while you’re gone. Not many of us left to lift the big things. We can’t all move stuff with our magic fingers.”

“That isn’t how it works and you know it,” she retorts playfully. “Well, you all deserve the rest. But you especially.”

“Thanks.” He’s trying to play it cool, but she can see how tired he is. Sam, especially, has had a hard time of it since Steve left and he’s been functioning as both team leader _and_ the new Captain America. “I promise I’ll get in a good nap or two while you’re gone. Maybe go running more often now that Steve’s not here to whoop my ass.”

“Only you would find running relaxing instead of exhausting,” she sighs. “I’m going to give this to the raven, and then perhaps we could see what there is to make into a half-decent dinner.”

* * *

One perk of belonging to a superteam that’s sort of bankrolled by what’s still one of the more profitable companies on Earth is the access to things like private planes, and while Wanda would never have insisted on wasting fuel just to get her across the world for what she hopes is a date, if some of the others are heading over to Europe anyway and Norway is just a couple hours out of the way she’s glad of the ride. (Predictably, Sam’s idea of taking a break involves humanitarian outreach, and Bucky goes most places that Sam goes now, and Scott and Hope were convinced to tag along too. This makes for a fairly pleasant plane ride, although one during which Wanda gets a _lot_ of shit.)

Scott does his thoroughly predictable (and secretly endearing) dad routine before Wanda gets off of the plane, making sure she has cold-weather clothes (too many of them had to be borrowed from other female Avengers’ closets, including a closet that Wanda really didn’t feel comfortable borrowing from initially) and lecturing her, somewhat fondly, about keeping her phone turned on in case of emergencies. At least this time he’s not trying and failing to give her a sex talk, though.

And then, with very little flourish, there they are in Norway. They’ve rigged up a semi-impromptu air strip on the edges of New Asgard and as they’re landing Wanda notices a creature (she doesn’t feel comfortable making any further identifications) holding one of those cliched signs with her name on it.

Bucky notices too, grins over at her, and asks, “So, your girlfriend’s got a whole welcome party for you, huh?”

Wanda flushes. “She’s probably just busy and wanted to send someone to bring me to the palace so I didn’t have to figure it out all by myself,” she says.

“I dunno,” Hope chuckles, “this is some pretty VIP treatment.”

“That’s some Nora Ephron romcom shit,” Sam says, grinning. “Adorable.”

Scott nods. “I’ve never actually seen anyone do that in real life. She must really like you.”

Wanda snort-laughs in that way she does when she’s trying to play off being uncomfortable. “She did invite me to visit her in Norway,” she says, grabbing her bags. “If any of you want hugs, this is your moment. I’m getting off the plane soon.”

“C’mere.” Sam leans over to give her a quick hug. “Have fun. Remember, you deserve it.”

Wanda looks embarrassed, but she’s grinning. “And all of you remember to get some rest amidst your good deeds and adventures,” she says, waving a hand at the others. “And I promise I’ll have my phone on. _Dad_.” That last part is said to Scott specifically.

That make him laugh. “Look, I can’t help it, I just worry! It comes with the whole having-a-kid thing.” He offers his hand for a fistbump.

“I know, I know,” she says, and (somewhat awkwardly, because she’s still not entirely sure what a fistbump is actually for) she returns the gesture.

“I think your ride’s getting impatient,” teases Bucky. The creature holding the sign is sort of bouncing on their heels expectantly.

“I’m going,” Wanda says, waving and heading for the door. “Text or call if you need me.”

The creature spots her coming and waves at her. “Hello there! My name’s Korg, Lady Sif sent me to meet you. Wanda, right?”

“Yes,” Wanda says, hoisting her purse up higher on her shoulder. “It’s nice to meet you, Korg. Are you from…?” She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t mean to be rude.”

“Oh, I’m a Kronan, from the planet Ria. Kind of a long story, but basically, I ended up in the same place as Thor, when he got stuck on that planet with the Grandmaster and gladiatorial fighting and all. I sort of just ended up going with him back to Asgard, then we left when the whole planet blew up, and I’ve been here in New Asgard ever since.” Korg grins - or maybe grins, it’s a little hard to tell, since he seems to be made of rocks. “So, yeah, that’s me. Now I’ve got a nice little side gig vlogging. Apparently people are really interested in what goes on in New Asgard, who’da thunk it?”

“I’d guess it’s novel,” Wanda suggests. “People from Earth aren’t sure how different things are going to be with Asgardians, or others not from this planet. But then again, I’ve seen vlogs that are just so-called average people doing average things, so maybe it’s interconnectivity that’s most appealing.”

Korg shrugs. “Guess so. Well, anyway, you ready to go? We can get a bite to eat if you’re hungry, but I figured you’d probably want to head there, ‘cause it’s a bit of a drive.”

“I ate earlier,” Wanda says. She doesn’t mention that she’s also a bit too nervous to be hungry. “We can get going.”

Korg keeps up the friendly chatter on the hour’s drive to New Asgard, asking about her life and how the rest of the Avengers are (apparently in between all the depression drinking and gaming, Thor had dropped just enough information about them that Korg is deeply curious) and getting excited when she tells him about her own revolutionary past. It’s a nice distraction that keeps her from getting too anxious, and before she knows it they’re coming up on the little seaside village. “Here we are,” Korg says, parking the truck in front of one of the houses. “Lady Sif usually lives here, unless the Queen’s got her away on business. But she won’t be right now, ‘cause you’re here!” He grins. 

“Should I just go let myself in, then?” Wanda asks, chuckling.

“Yeah, ‘spose so. She doesn’t really stand on ceremony too much. Unfortunately I’m supposed to go check on how the new dock’s coming along, or I’d come with you. Unless you want me to come with you?”

“You don’t need to,” she promises, letting herself out of the car and waving. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for the ride.” 

“Yeah, ‘course!” He waves back. “Have fun! If you wanna come see me later, I’m just a few doors down, the one that’s bright red.”

She nods and heads for the door, willing her heart to stop beating so absurdly fast. This shouldn’t be scary. This is just going to see someone she likes and cares about, someone who specifically asked her to be here. It shouldn’t be difficult to lift a hand up and knock on the door.

She doesn’t have to wait long before the door opens and Sif’s beaming down at her. “Hello, Wanda,” she says. “I’m so glad you came.”

Before Wanda can think any better of it, she’s throwing her arms around Sif’s waist and holding tight. “I’m glad, too,” she says. “I’m glad to see you.”

Sif laughs in delight and runs her fingers through Wanda’s hair. “Yes. I’m sorry it’s been so long, there’s just been...so much to do. Come in, please. Valkyrie’s here, I hope you don’t mind?”

Begrudgingly, Wanda breaks away. “I understand,” she says softly. “And I don’t mind. We’ve met, but only just.” 

“Oh, of course, during the battle.” Sif ushers her inside, hand resting on her back gently. They head down the hall to the room where Valkyrie’s sitting in a comfortable chair, nursing a drink. “My Queen, I believe you’ve met Wanda Maximoff?”

Valkyrie nods, looking Wanda over shamelessly. “Bit less imposing out of your superhero duds,” she says, “but so’re we all. I like what you’ve got going on now. You look like you’re from one of those films that always play on cable channels, about disaffected youth.”

That assessment, while not inaccurate on any particular point, takes Wanda through enough reactions that she has to compose herself once it’s through; luckily, the last is funny enough that she’s not stuck on the compliments (which, predictably, make her blush). “Thank you, I think,” she says wryly. “Sam likes to tease me about that, but I can’t help that I grew up in a country that was always at least two decades behind, aesthetically.”

Valkyrie shrugs. “Whatever it is, it’s cute,” she says, knowing full well the effect that will have on Wanda (a momentary look like she’s going to swoon).

Sif notices that, and chuckles before saying, “Let’s sit, hm?” The unspoken ending of that being “before you faint.”

“Sitting would be nice,” Wanda agrees, voice slighter than she’d like.

“I didn’t know you were a personal friend of Sif’s,” Valkyrie says once they’re all settled. “But I can’t say it surprises me. You’re formidable enough to impress her.”

Wanda laughs nervously. “Thank you,” she says again. 

“Don’t be modest,” Valkyrie declares. “You were one of the only ones going head-to-head with that purple bastard and holding your own. That’s not to be taken lightly.”

“I had a personal stake in the matter,” Wanda mumbles. “I had to try.”

“You came damn near to succeeding,” Valkyrie counters, and then to Sif she says, “If you’ve not had the pleasure of watching her in proper combat, you’re missing out.”

“Unfortunately I haven’t really had the chance,” Sif replies. “But I have no doubt. We did some training together and she’s exceptional.”

“Yes, well,” Wanda stammers, “I couldn’t possibly outdo entering a battle on an actual Pegasus.”

“Nobody can,” Valkyrie says smugly. “But flying in of your own volition comes close.”

“She’s right,” Sif says to Wanda, teasing but gentle. “Your abilities are just as impressive as hers or mine, and it’s alright to acknowledge that.”

Wanda shrugs a little, but she also nods in concession before changing the subject. “Where does someone even find a Pegasus?” she asks. “I thought they were imaginary.”

“Only as imaginary as the Valkyrior or time travel or reality-warping magic,” Valkyrie says smoothly. “Though they had been thought extinct. It’s a funny story, really. Carol, or Captain Marvel -”

“I know her a bit,” Wanda says, quickly to cover for the fact that she also finds _her_ attractive (she doubts she’ll have the chance to act on it, but this conversation is just triggering a lot of the rather more amorous thoughts she’s pushed aside in recent weeks). “We spoke after Stark’s memorial, before she headed to Louisiana.”

Valkyrie nods (completely seeing through this). “Well, about two years ago she’d been serving justice on some far-away shithole and just happened to stumble on some rich fuck’s abandoned experimental stable. Dunno if they were engineered or how it’d work, but however they came to be, there were a half-dozen Pegasus babies. Carol knew I had some experience with them, so she brought them here.”

“They’re very smart,” Sif says. “And stronger than regular horses too. We’re lucky to have them.”

“Oh!” Wanda exclaims, delighted. “I don’t know anything about horses, really, but they’re very pretty. I’m glad they have this place, and you.” She smiles wryly, because otherwise she’d probably cry. “Abandoned experiments need a good support system.”

Sif gives her a sympathetic look and puts a hand on her arm. “We’re doing what we can, of course. Would you like to meet them?”

“Could I?” Wanda asks eagerly. “I’d like that.”

“Lemme show you the way,” Valkyrie offers, finishing off her drink and walking the empty glass into the kitchen. “Then I promise I’ll leave you to… whatever you’re going to get up to.”

Sif snorts and doesn’t respond to that. “I think you’ll like them,” she says to Wanda. “You haven’t been around horses before, have you?”

“I haven’t,” Wanda says. “I’ve always found them beautiful, but…” None of her previous living environments have been exactly suited to equestrian pursuits.

“They’ll be nice, promise,” Valkyrie says. “Shall we?”

She leads the way toward the stables, a few paces ahead to give Sif and Wanda a bit of privacy. “So,” Sif says, eyes gleaming, “what do you think of our Queen, hm?”

“She’s very impressive,” Wanda says quickly. “I thought so in the battle and I think so now.”

“She is,” agrees Sif. “There was a time that I thought that none but Thor would be suited for the throne of Asgard, but now I think he made exactly the right choice. Valkyrie is the best person to lead us into this new age.”

“She seems it,” Wanda says. “And I’m sure that with you by her side, you’ll be able to take anything at all on.”

Sif smiles. “Thank you, Wanda. I will certainly do my best.”

“I know you will,” Wanda says, and she reaches for Sif’s hand before pulling back abruptly. “I… I don’t, I don’t know if, would that be alright? If I…?”

“Of course,” Sif says, grabbing Wanda’s hand and squeezing it. “It’s more than alright.”

“Okay,” Wanda says shyly. “I like your hands.”

“I seem to recall that,” teases Sif, winking at her. “I’m glad you still do.”

Wanda feels herself blushing yet again. “I’m glad you want to share them with me,” she murmurs. “And yourself. That you want to share yourself. It’s still hard to believe sometimes.”

“Of course,” Sif says. “I care about you, Wanda.”

“I care about you too,” Wanda says. “Sometimes I wonder if I should, I seem to have a way of leaving destruction in my wake, but I do.”

Sif shrugs. “I seem to be able to weather destruction just fine. I’m not concerned.”

Wanda rubs her thumb over the back of Sif’s hand idly. “Alright,” she says.

“Oi, lovebirds,” Valkyrie calls, turning around to face them. “I’m gonna leave you here. Got royal shit to tend to. But there’ll be dinner enough for all if you stop by later.” The way she says that makes it less a suggestion and more a pointed request.

Sif gives her a little bow. “Please let me know if you need me for anything, my Queen.”

“You don’t have to do that every time,” Valkyrie groans, though she’s smirking.

“I know,” Sif says with an identical smirk. “Come on, Wanda, are you ready? They should be in the paddocks over here.”

Wanda nods and waves at Valkyrie as they turn off. “Is there anything I should know before I get near them?” she asks.

“Don’t stand directly in front of them or behind them, they can’t see you. And be careful with your fingers near their mouths, they might mistake them for carrots. Most of them don’t bite, except for Hrolf, who thinks it’s a game to try and eat fingers. He’s the big dark brown one with the white stripe down his face, you can stay away from him if you want. The others mostly just like it when you pet their necks and scratch under their manes.”

“Let’s start with the ones that don’t bite for now,” Wanda says, laughing a little nervously. “Petting and scratching is simple enough.”

Sif nods, and they walk a bit further before stopping in front of a wooden gate. She whistles, and three of the Pegasi trot over curiously, ears pricked. “This is Arndis, Norna, and Eldrid,” she says, pointing at the black, pale grey, and light brown ones respectively. “They’re the females.”

“They’re lovely,” Wanda says, rather awed. She holds up a hand but doesn’t put it near the Pegasi, like she’s waiting for instructions.

“You can come closer if you want,” Sif says, clicking her tongue at the mares. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a bit of carrot, offering it to Norna, and the mare gently takes it from her. “They know I carry treats,” she adds, scratching Norna’s neck. “So they always come to me.”

“Well, I’m sure they know you’re a friend, too,” Wanda says earnestly. “Hello, Norna.”

“Here,” Sif says, “you can feed one of the others.” She passes Wanda another piece of carrot. “Put it flat on your palm and keep your fingers pressed together, and then put it up so they can reach it.”

Wanda nods, then follows Sif’s instructions and waits with an expectant look. “Had you known many Pegasi before?” she asks as Arndis and Eldrid study her and approach.

Sif shakes her head. “We thought they had been extinct for millennia, slaughtered alongside the Valkyries. Traditionally, they were the Valkyrior’s steeds only. I never thought I’d be so fortunate as to see one with my own eyes.” She strokes Norna’s neck again and trails off, as if lost in thought.

“I’m glad you have,” Wanda says softly, sensing all that Sif is leaving unspoken. “They seem fond of you.”

“Like I said,” Sif replies with a smirk, “they know I have food.”

“That’s not it and you know it,” Wanda chides, though she’s smiling too.

Sif laughs. “Well, I did have a horse back in Asgard. I suppose they can tell I’m comfortable around them.”

“You must be a sight on horseback,” Wanda muses. “Beautiful and fearsome and strong.”

That makes Sif preen a bit. “I suppose,” she says, eyes gleaming. “Perhaps we could take them out later for a bit of exercise and you could see for yourself.”

“We?” Wanda echoes.

“Or you could watch me,” Sif adds, “but I thought it would be more fun if we were both riding.”

“I’ve never ridden before, though,” Wanda says.

“I could sit behind you if you’d rather that,” coaxes Sif. “Or Valkyrie could, if you’d prefer.” She’s teasing, but she wants to see how Wanda will react to that.

“I’d want to ride with you,” Wanda says in a hurry. “At least at first. I’m _your_ guest, it’s polite, and I like doing things with you.” But given her expression, she clearly wouldn’t object to riding (or doing other things) with Valkyrie later.

Sif grins. “Of course.” She reaches to squeeze Wanda’s hand. “We don’t have to if you don’t wish to. I just thought you might like it.”

“I would, I think,” Wanda agrees. “Is it difficult?”

“Not terribly. And we don’t have to fly very high if you don’t wish to. I’ve become quite good at controlling their flight.”

“We’d _fly_?” Wanda asks, awed. “You’d take me flying?”

“Only if you wish,” Sif repeats. “We can remain on the ground if you’re not comfortable.”

“I wish,” Wanda says quickly. “I’d be thrilled.” And then she casts Sif a smile, one that’s pretending to be cocky. “I’m just not used to flying getting to be a shared activity.”

“Well, I’d be glad to help change that. How about now? After all, we’re already here.”

“Yes,” Wanda exclaims. “Yes, yes, please.” Another of those smiles. “And not just so I have something appropriate to tell the boys about when I get home.”

Sif snickers. “Good thinking.” She opens the gate and gestures for Wanda to follow her inside the pasture. “Arndis is the gentlest of these three,” she says, “so she should be good for a beginner.” She clucks her tongue at the black mare, who follows them away from the gate. “Now,” Sif says, once they’re closer to the center of the pasture, “I’ll help you mount her. It’s not too tricky and I’ll be here to steady you.”

Wanda nods quickly. “Do I… how do I do this?” she asks. “The closest I’ve come to riding a horse is the time that Steve taught me to ride a motorcycle, and those are much lower to the ground.”

“Here.” Sif has her stand on Arndis’ left side, facing the horse. “Now, put both hands on her back, like this, and put your left foot in my hands so I can boost you up. Then you’ll swing your right leg over her back and sit.” 

Wanda nods again and obeys, resting her hands on the horse and feeling comforted by the sturdiness of her as she rises up and settles in. “Oh,” she giggles, nervous enough that anything more articulate escapes her.

“There,” Sif says, patting Arndis’ neck, “that wasn’t so hard. Now, hang on a second while I get up too.” She mirrors Wanda’s movements from before, though without the foothold she has to use her own strength and momentum to lift herself onto Arndis’ back. It takes her a moment, but finally she settles behind Wanda and wraps her arms around her waist. “Good?”

“Yes,” Wanda says, hoping Sif doesn’t notice the way it takes her breath away. “I feel safe.”

“Good,” Sif says, grinning. “And now...” She nudges Arndis with her heels and clucks her tongue, and the mare starts ambling forward. “We’ll start with a walk and let you get used to her. You can hold onto her mane if you like, it doesn’t hurt her. And grip with your knees so you won’t fall.”

“Mane, knees,” Wanda mutters, following Sif’s instructions. She’s tense, but she hopes that Sif understands it’s not _bad_ tense.

“We can go as slowly as you’d like,” Sif reminds her. “And if you want to stop, just tell me.”

Wanda nods. “Keep going,” she says, turning to glance at Sif over her shoulder. “Show me.” 

“Alright.” Sif coaxes Arndis into a trot for just long enough for Wanda to see how that feels (but not for long at all, because bareback trotting is a recipe for disaster) and then into a canter. “Not too fast, is it?” she asks in Wanda’s ear.

“No,” Wanda says, shaking her head fast and sinking back against Sif just a little.

They keep going for a bit, Sif gently steering Arndis around the edges of the paddock, and then finally Sif asks, “Are you ready to fly?” Arndis’ ears are pricked and she’s picking up her hooves in the way that means she’s eager to take off soon.

Wanda nods even quicker than before, though she’s holding Arndis’ mane extra-tightly. “Please?” she asks.

Sif shouts a command and Arndis speeds up, then lifts off, beating her wings to rise until they’re high enough to catch the wind. “Hold on!” Sif says, grinning.

Wanda does, but she can’t help but squeal as they take flight, laughing and gasping at uneven intervals. “Oh! Oh, we’re really -!”

“Yes!” Sif’s arms tighten around her and she taps Arndis with her heels again, urging her to speed up a bit. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

Wanda nods quickly, feeling breathless. “It’s so…”

“So, what?” 

“Much,” Wanda says, which means she’s not sure exactly how to describe it but it’s a positive.

That makes Sif laugh. “I know exactly what you mean.”

They don’t stay up in the air for very long, maybe fifteen minutes, before Sif directs Arndis to descend. “They can fly for much longer, of course,” she says, as the mare canters toward the ground, “but since there’s two of us I don’t want to tire her out. The landing might be a little bumpy, so be careful!”

Wanda giggles. “I’ll hold on very carefully,” she promises. 

Sure enough, the landing jostles them a bit, but they manage to stay upright, and soon enough Arndis is slowing to a trot, then a walk. “Well done,” Sif says, patting the mare’s shoulder. “And you as well, Wanda.”

“All I did was play passenger,” Wanda demurs, glancing at her lap.

“Yes, but you stayed atop her, which is more than I can say for some,” Sif says with a snicker. “Not bad for your first time astride a horse at all.”

“I had you to hold me,” Wanda points out. “I think it’s more a testament to your skill than mine.”

“You make it so difficult for me to compliment you,” teases Sif. “I promise I mean it.”

Wanda reaches for Sif’s hand to squeeze as an apology. “Habit,” she says sheepishly. “But I believe you.”

“I know.” Sif guides Arndis to a stop. “And now, I think we’d better give Arndis a rest. She’s earned it.”

“Alright,” Wanda says. “I suppose you’ll help me dismount as well?”

Sif nods. “Of course. Let me just slip off first…” She does so, and then reaches up to put her hand on Wanda’s waist. “Now, swing your right leg over her back and slide off. It’s the reverse of what you did earlier. I’ll catch you if you slip.”

Wanda does this, letting herself fall into Sif’s arms once they’re on the ground again. “I’ve missed,” she whispers. Missed this, missed their closeness. She doesn’t feel the need to clarify.

Sif seems to understand this, pulling her closer. “It’s all right,” she says. “I’ve got you.”

“Thank you,” Wanda murmurs. “I’d like to have dinner with Valkyrie, but would it be alright if we didn’t stay very long after?”

“Don’t worry,” Sif replies with a smirk, “I assumed we would have after-dinner plans.”

* * *

They take a scenic walk after Valkyrie bids them farewell, with Sif pointing out important parts of New Asgard like the woodshop where Korg and some of the Asgardian craftspeople make pianos (“Korg discovered he enjoys playing the piano, but he had to make special a special piano to accommodate his size, and then he decided he wanted to keep making accessible pianos,” Sif explains with a shrug) and the forge (“as it turns out, some people will pay quite a bit for authentically forged Asgardian weapons and tools”) and a large house with a sign out front reading “the New Asgard Home For Intergalactic Refugees Who Need Help” (Wanda doesn’t feel comfortable treating such a place as a tourist attraction, but they do stop out front to talk to a couple of the girls lingering in the yard and pet their large wolfdogs). It’s a pleasant walk, but by the end of it Wanda is practically buzzing with excited energy.

Sif notices, of course, and grins over at her. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Wanda says. “I’m just… I’m happy.”

Sif runs her hand down Wanda’s back. “Good, I’m glad. I’m happy too.” They reach her house and she opens the door with a flourish. “Here we are.”

“Here we are,” Wanda echoes. “Could we… could we kiss?”

“Out here?” teases Sif. “Or would you rather kiss inside?”

“Inside,” Wanda says quickly. “Just… I’d like to. Soon.”

“Of course.” Sif ushers her inside. “We can take a tour, if you’d like. But first, since you asked so nicely…” She leans down to cup Wanda’s face in her hands and kiss her.

“Tour later,” Wanda whispers. “Kissing now.” And to encourage this, she throws her arms around Sif’s shoulders.

Sif laughs warmly. “Alright, later then.” She kisses Wanda again.

Wanda makes the kind of half-a-moan noise that would embarrass her if anyone else was in earshot and rises up on her toes. “Sitting?” she asks. “More than sitting?”

“Come with me.” Sif tugs her through the hallway, toward what must be her bedroom. “I remembered what you liked before and I got some new...I believe your people call them toys?”

Wanda’s eyes go wide. “That’s a very broad category,” she manages to squeak out, suddenly a little overwhelmed (in the best way).

“Oh, I’m well aware,” Sif says, mischief in her eyes. “I visited some very educational websites. But I got some things that will help bind you, the way you like. I hope that’s alright?” 

“Educational websites,” Wanda echoes, laughing nervously. “Not all of those are good. I’ve learned that myself. I… I trust you, though. I want this.”

“I’m fairly sure all the websites I found were good ones. But you can always tell me if something is too much or you want to stop, of course. I’m honored that you trust me.” Sif opens the door to her bedroom and ushers Wanda inside.

“I do,” Wanda says. “I’ve known I could trust you since meeting you.”

Sif smiles. “Thank you, Wanda.” She sits down on her bed and pats the space next to her. “You wanted more kissing?”

Wanda nods, sitting and bringing one hand up to trace the lines of Sif’s face. “Please,” she says.

So Sif wraps an arm around her waist to pull her closer and kisses her, softly at first and then harder. 

“That,” Wanda whispers, eyes fluttering shut. “Harder. I want to feel you.”

Chuckling, Sif murmurs “Very well, then.” She nips at Wanda’s lips and then slips her tongue into Wanda’s mouth. As she does, she reaches up to run her hand through Wanda’s hair and tug at it a bit.

Wanda moans again, louder this time and more insistent, and she tilts her head to give Sif more access to her throat. “Yes,” she murmurs. “Yes, yes.”

Taking the hint, Sif kisses her way across Wanda’s face and down her neck, pausing to ask, “Is it alright if I leave marks on you?”

“Yes,” Wanda says immediately, like she’d been waiting for the question. “We’ve nothing to hide.”

Sif nods and immediately starts kissing and sucking at Wanda’s neck. “I’d like that,” she says softly in between kisses. “To see myself on you.”

“Please?” Wanda asks, keeping a hand on Sif’s shoulder to steady herself. “I’d like, too.”

For awhile, Sif focuses on this, worrying the skin on Wanda’s neck and kissing the same spots gently as a few small bruises begin to form. “There,” she says finally, pausing for a second to admire it. “Now you look like mine.”

“I am,” Wanda says, and to look at her you’d think she was intoxicated, she seems

so pleasantly dazed. “Yours.”

“Perhaps we should get more comfortable,” Sif suggests, starting to slip her own tunic off. “Then I could do more of that.”

“Yes, please,” Wanda says. She’s dimly aware that her vocabulary has shrunk to almost nothing, but she doesn’t need more than that right now, so it’s alright. 

Sif’s trousers come off next, then her undergarments. Then she reaches for the bottom of Wanda’s shirt and pulls it over her head, tossing it aside. “I’m glad you opted for comfort on the journey here,” she says. “Though I might like to see you in something more elegant later.”

“I packed for any occasion,” Wanda says, hoping it sounds seductive. 

“Oh?” Sif smirks and raises an eyebrow. “Well, we’ll have to find occasions for you to wear it all then.” She glances down at Wanda’s pants. “Help me get these off?”

Wanda nods, pulling them off as quick as she can because there’s really no attractive way she’s found to get out of skinny jeans. “And my underwear, I suppose,” she says.

“Well, I could touch you with them on, but it won’t be as nice for you,” Sif teases.

“Someday, maybe,” Wanda says coyly. “Tonight, I want to be close.”

“Of course, love,” Sif murmurs as she tugs off Wanda’s underwear. Then she leans in for another kiss. 

Wanda moans before their lips even meet, reacting mostly to the endearment. She’s still embarrassingly new to endearments, considering she’s had all of two romantic entanglements including this one and her other partner sounded like he was reciting internet lists when he tried using them. (Mostly because he was.) “Please,” she murmurs, not sure what she’s asking for.

Sif kisses down her neck again, then across her collarbone, nipping every so often. “I think you should lie down now,” she whispers. Her tone, though gentle, makes it clear it’s not really a suggestion.

“Yes,” Wanda says, and she crosses to the bed. She thinks for a moment before arranging herself on her back, one knee up like some of the old pinup art she’s seen. “Like this?”

Sif can’t help but chuckle. “That’s good, yes,” she says, climbing onto the bed and leaning down to take a nipple into her mouth.

Immediately Wanda arches against Sif needily, bringing one hand to Sif’s waist mostly just for the sensation of skin on skin. “Yes?”

Sif nods, letting go of Wanda’s breast long enough to say, “You can touch me as much as you like, Wanda.” Then she sucks harder on Wanda’s nipple.

Given the suggestion Sif has already made, Wanda knows this won’t last all night and therefore resolves to take advantage. She moves her other hand up too, skimming up over Sif’s stomach and palming her breasts.

This makes Sif sigh and press closer to Wanda. “That’s nice,” she hums before moving to Wanda’s other breast. 

“Good,” Wanda replies, holding a bit more firmly.

Sif squirms, playing with Wanda’s nipple for a little while before pausing to smile at her and ask, “Did you want anything in particular?”

“Whatever you want to give,” Wanda says breathily. Even if she’d come into this with specific intentions (which she hadn’t) she’s already too far gone to articulate them. She just wants Sif.

“Then let me get some of the toys I was speaking of earlier,” Sif hums, giving her a last quick kiss before disentangling herself from Wanda and getting off the bed. A few moments later she’s returned, some red silk sashes in her hand. “Here we are,” she says. “These should be good for binding you.”

Wanda nods. “They look soft,” she says. “Smooth.”

“Here, you can feel them,” Sif offers, holding them out to her. “They’re Asgardian-made. And they have a bit of magic in them, so I’m told. You’ll have to let me know if that’s true,” she teases.

“What kind of magic?” Wanda asks, reaching to run her fingertips over the fabric. 

“I suspect to make them stronger and more resilient,” Sif says with a shrug. “Perhaps also to keep you bound but not hurt you? I’m not sure, truth be told. I suppose we’ll find out.”

“Yes,” Wanda says, feeling an electric sort of excitement run through her body. “I, I’m glad. To find out these things with you. I hadn’t thought about any of this since… but then your letter arrived, and I…”

Sif runs her hand down Wanda’s cheek affectionately. “I’m glad,” she says. “I want to help you relax, and I know this can do that. You deserve this.”

“You do, too,” Wanda says. “You’ve been working and doing things I can’t even imagine, and you, you’ve had to find a place in a world that isn’t yours _and_ that you’ve been gone from…”

“That’s true,” Sif replies, a bit idly. “I’ll admit, I didn’t call you here for entirely selfless reasons. Being with you is...soothing. It’s nice to just be able to focus on you for awhile and not have to think about anything else.”

Wanda glances away, trying to find the right words. “I’m glad, then,” she says. “That I can help. And I’m glad that we can be a little selfish together. Everything has been… so much to bear.”

“Yes,” agrees Sif, leaning down to kiss her again. “I think we should get started, hm? I had an idea from one of those websites that I think you’ll like. Sit up?”

“Alright,” Wanda says, and she does.

“Good,” Sif praises as she grabs one of the sashes and loops it around Wanda, just under her breasts. Then she winds it around Wanda’s breasts and shoulders a few more times until, finally, there’s a harness around them and a five-pointed star across her collarbone. “There,” she says, satisfied with her work. “How does that feel, lovely?”

Wanda shivers just a bit. “Secure,” she says. “Like an embrace is secure.” She glances down and admires Sif’s work. She doesn’t actually think about her own breasts’ appearance that often, honestly: she’s not voluptuous, exactly, but neither is she wholly flat-chested. Left to their own devices, her breasts are, well, fine. But framed with the silk harness, she can sort of see what Sif might like about them. 

And the silk is absolutely magnificent.

Sif nods. “I thought you’d like that. And now I’ll bind your arms as well, if you’ll lean forward a bit?”

“Alright,” Wanda whispers, obliging. Given that instruction, she takes a chance and lets her arms fall behind her back.

“Good girl,” Sif praises as she gently grabs Wanda’s arms and arranges them behind her back, then secures them with another sash. “Still nice?”

Wanda takes a moment to wiggle, not trying to escape but just to test it out, and despite the relative simplicity of the tie she feels like she can barely move at all. After weeks of being in constant motion, this feels like a relief. “Wonderful.”

“And your legs,” Sif continues, bending Wanda’s left leg at the knee and tying it so her ankle is touching the back of her upper thigh, then repeating with her right leg. “The website I found said this position was good for keeping someone still while you fuck them, so I thought it would be appropriate.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Wanda moans. It’s not like this is unexpected, but there’s something about the way that Sif says it that drives her wild.

At that, Sif pauses to give her a long kiss. “I’m glad you’re liking this,” she murmurs. “Do you feel like being gagged and blindfolded?”

Wanda doesn’t have to think twice about it, she just nods. “All I want is you,” she says.

“Thank you,” Sif says, running a hand through Wanda’s hair before tying one sash over her eyes and another over her mouth. Then she grins and kisses Wanda’s mouth. “How does that feel?”

Wanda whimpers. She can feel Sif’s lips against hers, can even kiss back a little bit, but it’s like every part of her that the sash covers is for all intents and purposes stuck right where they are. It’s like using stronger than the strongest tape, but smoother and gentler and just _nicer_ , and since her lips and tongue and jaw are all immobilized, she’s reduced to throaty, desperately needy vocalizations. And her sight! She couldn’t flutter her eyelids even if she wanted. It’s the sweetest, safest dark imaginable, the kind that’s still somehow glowing.

“I’m guessing it’s good,” Sif says fondly. “I have another toy to fuck you with, but first I’m going to use my fingers, alright?”

Wanda nods, hurried and almost insistent, and she angles her chin toward the sound of Sif’s voice before making her best attempt at a noise of assent.

“Let me just go get it first.” Sif gets off the bed to retrieve the harness (it’s Asgardian-made leather too, not that Wanda can see) and smooth wooden dildo and straps it on before crawling back over to Wanda. Then she reaches between Wanda’s legs, murmuring, “You’re so beautiful, all done up for me like this.”

This makes Wanda’s hips jerk and she sighs a thank-you sound. Behind her back, her fingers are twitching, like she’s playing an imaginary keyboard even though the position is all wrong.

Sif traces her fingers down Wanda’s folds, just teasing to start with. “It’s so endearing the way you move your fingers like that,” she says fondly. “I like knowing you’re enjoying how I touch you.”

Wanda shrugs a little, blushing. She’s not sure she’d really even be able to explain her stims if she had words, so it’s a relief not to have to. She doesn’t have to do anything but feel.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” Sif soothes. “I mean it when I say that. I like how you react to me.”

Here, Wanda manages what’s almost a hum, accepting Sif’s words. It’s so much easier like this, just being able to let go and let someone else take over. It’s different than helplessness, different than those times she’s been made silent and still, because this is a willing surrender, the sort that’s more like taking a step back than giving up and giving in.

“I know how hard it is for you to feel truly comfortable. I’m very glad you feel so safe with me.” Sif begins to trace circles around Wanda’s clit with one finger, still teasing.

Wanda goes tense as she registers what Sif says. It’s true, but no matter how safe she feels she’ll always be a bit shy about those reasons that she is how she is, and that overcomes her for a moment. But oh, she can’t dwell for long when Sif is drawing patterns and waking up needs in her that she’d all but forgotten or ignored. Belatedly, she nods just once - yes, she does feel safe. She doesn’t mean to be odd.

Sif notices this, of course, and she says, “Right now I just want you to focus on my voice and my fingers, alright, lovely girl? Just let me make you feel good.”

That’s not hard, Wanda thinks. That’s just doing as someone asks, someone who cares for her and who she cares for in turn. Sif wants to guide her and be with her and, for a short while, be a part of her. So she relaxes more, feeling the sashes hold her right where she’s supposed to be.

“Good,” Sif praises her. “Would you like my fingers inside you now?”

Wanda lets out a stifled mewing sound, nodding lazily. All she can imagine is _more_.

“I’d like to hear more of those noises,” Sif hums, slipping first one and then two fingers into Wanda and moving them slowly at first. “You sound so nice, like they’re just for me.”

Wanda nods again, more assertively this time. That’s what she is, that’s what she wants to be. Nothing else, just for Sif. She murmurs some adoring nonsense as she rocks her hips forward and revels in the way the silk presses into her bound legs.

Sif crooks her fingers inside Wanda and says, “I want to see you come on my fingers the first time, alright? And then we’ll try the toy once you’re ready.”

Yet more nodding, and this time Wanda even sort of tries to say “alright” in answer. It comes out a muddled mess, barely even recognizable as a collection of vowels, but that too is alright. Sif will understand, Wanda knows, and Sif likes this, and it’s a strange almost-freedom to not have to make sense.

Of course Sif understands this, even if she doesn’t know _exactly_ what Wanda was trying to say. “Good girl,” she murmurs, continuing her movements against Wanda’s g-spot. “Come on, let go for me.”

As Wanda’s hips jerk, she makes an almost pained sound. It’s only the pain of being so _close_ , though, and her fingers are playing at the air again in a way that should prove to Sif that she’s alright. 

Sif rubs at her clit with her other hand and tells her what a good and pretty girl she is, and with enough of that, of Sif’s voice and fingers like she asked, Wanda feels the weight of the universe slip wholly off of her shoulders and she just _lets go_. An almost primal howl wells up in her throat, and though most of it gets stuck behind the sash the intention is clear.

Sif keeps touching her through her orgasm, helping her down gently, and finally once Wanda’s hips have calmed and she’s quieted Sif says, “Thank you, that was beautiful.”

Wanda tilts her head, almost like a question. She wouldn’t mind hearing more about why, though it’s another thing she could never express outright.

“You trust me with so much of yourself, and that’s beautiful,” Sif adds. “And watching you come undone is beautiful too.”

This time Wanda angles her head toward Sif’s voice, very obviously chasing more affection. She’s too strung out on this euphoria to worry about being greedy.

Sif chuckles, wiping her fingers clean before reaching to pet Wanda’s hair. “Such a sweet girl,” she says. “I’m glad I can make you feel good.”

Wanda hums something in the affirmative, though “good” is in her opinion an understatement.

“I still have this too,” Sif adds, gently rubbing the wooden dildo against Wanda’s center to give her an idea of how that feels. “Whenever you’re ready for more.”

Wanda nods again, leaning forward against the toy and toward Sif. She doesn’t want to stop. She wants to chase this feeling as long as she can.

“Alright, let me just…” Sif guides the head of the dildo inside Wanda and then pauses. “How does that feel?”

Odd is the first word that comes to Wanda’s mind. Not _bad_ odd, just odd. She’s not really used to having anything that big inside her, though she’s glad she’s spared the embarrassment of explaining this in so many words. Maybe it’s obvious, given the high keening noise she makes when Sif enters her in this way. Maybe it’s not and that’s a perfectly normal reaction. Whatever the case, Sif is the one offering this so she wants it completely.

Sif, careful to listen in case Wanda’s noises turn pained or unhappy, starts to slowly thrust into her. “Still alright?” she murmurs. “I want to make sure you’re enjoying this, love.”

Every time Sif calls her that, or calls her anything sweet, Wanda feels like she’s going to swoon. Maybe that’s another magic built into these sashes, keeping her from doing that. She nods, pushes her hips forward as best she can to meet Sif’s thrusts.

Sif wraps one arm around Wanda’s shoulders to pull her closer and keeps moving against her. “So eager for me,” she praises. “Such a good girl, taking me so well.”

Yet more nodding - it’s one of the only things Wanda can actively do right now, after all - and Wanda murmurs a sort of thank you. She wants to be good for Sif, eager and good and pleasing and sweet and whatever is asked of her.

Sif adjusts her position slightly and then moans. “Don’t worry,” she says breathily, “you’re not the only one benefiting from this. I’m enjoying watching you, of course, but this toy feels good for me too.”

Worry is perhaps too strong a word for what Wanda feels about this subject right now, but in her more composed mind she’s always concerned with mutuality and specifically Sif’s pleasure, so right now she still sort-of-smiles under the sash and sighs contentedly.

That makes Sif smile too, and she speeds up a bit. “I want to try something,” she says, and keeps one arm wrapped around Wanda while the other drifts down between their bodies to toy with her clit again. “Good?”

Wanda’s eyelids flutter like they’d be widening in surprise if given the opportunity, and she mumbles an inarticulate yes. She feels her skin against Sif’s, feels the sashes smooth and elegant between them, and she thinks that she hasn’t been this happy in a long time.

Sif can’t read her mind, of course, but she can tell that Wanda’s liking that, so she keeps it up. All the while she continues to tell Wanda how good she’s being and how beautiful she looks. 

By this point Wanda is close to losing control, almost shaking as she just _reacts_ to Sif’s touches and soft words. A few little sparks fly from her fingers, not strong enough that she’ll cause any harm but noticeable, as if the myriad other signs of her arousal weren’t enough.

Of course Sif notices this, and she murmurs, “It’s alright, love, it’s alright, you can come whenever you need to.”

Wanda whimpers and her head drops toward her chest as if she started to nod and then just gave up. She feels overwhelmed, but in a pleasant way, like she’s making up for their five years of separation (from each other and this plane of existence) all at once. She feels like she’d float away if not tied down, if not anchored by Sif. She can’t hold on much longer, it seems, and now that she has permission she just lets herself go.

Sif smiles and praises her through her orgasm, careful to wait for her own until Wanda’s finished. Sif’s orgasm is less showy, just a stuttering of her hips and a deep groan. “Thank you,” she gasps, petting Wanda’s hair. “How are you feeling, sweet girl, was that good?”

Wanda pushes her head against Sif’s hand, though even that small movement seems to take a lot of effort. She mewls something that’s meant as agreement, as _yes, it was perfect_ , as reassurance, as gratitude, as something like that. She’s not really sure of the details, but she’s sincere. She’s in herself and out of herself all at once.

“I’m going to pull out of you now, alright? And then I’ll undo the ties, if you’d like, and I can hold you awhile. I remember how much you like that.”

Another hum of assent and Wanda braces herself for the absence of something inside her. She’s not in any hurry, but oh, holding sounds like the most beautiful thing.

Sif gently slides the dildo out of Wanda and says, “I’m just going to get a cloth to wipe it off with, and then I’ll be right back.” Once that’s done and she’s left it in the bathroom to clean more thoroughly later, she climbs back onto the bed and unties Wanda’s arms, then legs. “Do you want to keep this part on?” she asks, gently tracing over the star pattern across Wanda’s collarbone.

Wanda nods, slowly and reverently reaching up to touch the sash herself, then take Sif’s hand for a moment.

Sif squeezes her hand gently. “And these?” she asks, brushing her fingers across first the gag and then the blindfold. “Nod if you’d like to keep them on as well.”

Wanda considers this. She’s not sure she has the strength to try and find words yet, and in that way the gag is a comfort, but she wants to look on Sif’s beauty, plain and simple. So she motions to the gag and nods, then to the blindfold and shakes her head. She doesn’t expect there will be any problem with that.

“Alright,” Sif says, undoing the blindfold and smiling once Wanda’s looking at her. “Hello there, love.”

Wanda attempts a hello, leaning forward like she’s about to kiss Sif.

And Sif meets her halfway, kissing her through the gag as much as she’s able. “You’re so sweet,” she murmurs, stroking down Wanda’s back.

Wanda’s shoulders roll and her spine arches under Sif’s hand. She’d be content to touch like this the rest of her visit, honestly.

Sif gently moves Wanda so she’s laying on her side, facing Sif, then slips her arm around her to pull her close. “There,” she says. “I’ve got you.”

Wanda looks into Sif’s eyes, really looks, and it’s enough to bring tears to her own. The truth of those words of comfort is so obvious, so unavoidable, and while it’s not like she’s been alone or even uncomforted recently this is _different_.

“I’m sorry,” Sif says, and for the first time she looks a bit uncertain. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Quicker than anything, Wanda shakes her head. They’re not sad tears, or sad because of anything Sif has done. But so many of the others have found some sort of peace in the returning, Scott has Hope and Cassie and Steve had a whole life in the blink of an eye and Clint has his family and Sam has the shield, and this is the first time she’s really felt anything even close to that. She’s very plainly wrestling with the right way to express this.

Sif nods. “Alright, if you’re sure.” She gently runs her finger along Wanda’s cheekbones and over her lips (through the gag). “So beautiful.”

Well, that just makes Wanda cry even more, but purely happy now, her eyes crinkling as she sort-of smiles. She falters for a moment, then touches Sif’s temple with a question in her eyes. Would she be allowed to show her feelings right now, when she doesn’t have the power to say them?

It takes Sif a second to realize what she’s asking, but then she says, “Are you wanting to share with me, like you did the last time we were together? I’d like that.”

Wanda nods, then takes a moment to figure out what she wants to show. This isn’t something she does very often anymore, because of all of the reasons she’s learned she shouldn’t, but it’s useful when she’s got permission, and Sif understands. 

Eventually what she comes up with is an image, her perception, of Stark’s funeral. Everyone else has their little clusters, family or romantic partners or designated teams, while Wanda stands off to the side. She’d been with Bucky and Sam and Steve during part of it because they’re the closest she has to family anymore, then she’d been with Clint awhile, then she’d spoken a bit to most of the people there, but she’d felt alone the whole time, an outsider at best and unwanted at worst. She hadn’t exactly been on great terms with Stark and could reasonably assume that his family therefore didn’t think too highly of her either; the man who’d been responsible for imprisoning her and the others so unfairly was there acting like he had every right and if any of them overreacted it would prove his point; Vision was dead and forgotten; Natasha was dead and nobody seemed to want to mention her out of fear or respect or something else entirely; there wasn’t anything there for her.

Once Sif’s had the chance to consider this, Wanda adds to the image. Now the imagined Sif comes to stand beside the imagined Wanda, taking her hand and just being there with her. Making her feel like she belonged somewhere. Like she’s wanted.

It takes Sif a moment to process the images Wanda’s sending her, but finally she smiles and nods. “I’m so glad I can help you feel that,” she says. “We’ve all had a hard time lately, but you deserve to have a place to feel safe and wanted.”

Wanda nods, tapping Sif’s collarbone decisively. Right now, this is, _Sif_ is, that place. She doesn’t have to worry about how she behaves, or how she thinks, or who she is. She just gets to be. But after a moment, her expression turns concerned: she wouldn’t want to rely so heavily on Sif for that if she wasn’t offering it in turn.

“What’s wrong?” Sif asks, frowning. After all, she’s not a mind reader. 

There’s not really a good way to express this without words. There’s really not a good way to express it _with_ words, and if she tried it would just be a dithering mess. So she takes hold of Sif’s hand and places it over her own heart, then puts her hand over Sif’s heart with more of those questions in her eyes. Is this equal? 

Sif pauses to puzzle out what Wanda’s trying to say, then asks, “Are you worried you’re not doing enough to care for me the same way I care for you?”

More of that nodding, though this time Wanda feels almost ashamed. She’s glad that Sif understood, but once it’s said out loud she feels selfish for worrying.

“Oh, Wanda, you don’t have to worry about that,” Sif reassures her, stroking down her back. “Part of the reason I asked you to come here was that I’ve been needing some time to relax. And I realized that focusing on you helps me do that.”

Wanda tilts her head. Relaxation is not something anyone has ever, to her knowledge, associated with her.

“I mean that,” Sif insists. “I’ve spent my life serving first my King and now my Queen, and I am happy to do it, but I do enjoy taking time every so often for something that has nothing to do with that. Being with you, giving you affection and care and love, makes me put my other responsibilities aside so that I can focus on you. I don’t have to think about anyone else and that’s freeing.”

That makes sense. It’s part of what Wanda treasures about their being together, too, though she’s spent her life on different things. She likes letting her world narrow down for a while. But that’s still not quite enough of an answer, and she doesn’t just want to be someone for Sif to serve. She wants to be able to give more than her neediness to Sif.

She gives a frustrated hum, shutting her eyes as she tries to figure out how to make this clear. Without words, the best she can do is withdraw her hand from Sif’s breast and press Sif’s harder against hers. She’s worried that she does too much taking.

Sif frowns again and then says, “I’m sorry, let me put it another way...I like having control. I like that you trust me to be in charge of our time together.”

This is better. More satisfying. Because that’s the thing: Wanda has these inclinations, and that’s just a part of how she works, but she’d never in a million years be willing to let just anyone do this to her. It even took her awhile to let Vision do her up, and they were more or less, as old American movies would put it, “going steady” up until the end. Most of that was because of _baggage_ , though, and that’s never come into the equation with Sif. Whatever their relationship is exists parallel to, but mostly outside of, any of the dramatics in their lives, and so it’s easy. It’s comfortable. It’s exactly what the both of them probably need.

And knowing that Sif is getting out of it as much as she is, that’s what really matters. So Wanda mumbles something affectionate and rubs her face against Sif’s neck like a cat, understanding and affectionate and generally just positive.

“Thank you,” Sif murmurs, petting her hair. “You’re very sweet. I don’t want you to have to worry about anything while we’re together, least of all me.”

Wanda nods. That’s hard for her to do, but she’ll try, if that’s what Sif wants. She arches her neck, chasing Sif’s touches, and her eyes smile. 

“Now,” Sif hums, “how are you feeling? Do you want to sleep? It’s a bit early, but if you’re tired you can sleep.”

Wanda shakes her head. She’s exhausted, but she can’t imagine falling asleep right now, even though she feels more comfortable than she has since reappearing. She pulls herself a bit closer to Sif and, after a moment’s deliberation, traces the words _tell me a story?_ letter-by-letter on Sif’s arm. She wants to know about Sif’s life, she wants to listen. She wants to give her undivided attention.

“A story?” Sif checks, considering. “How about the time when Thor and I were children and we decided to raid the royal armory to join a battle patrol to Muspelheim? We’d never fought fire demons before but we were sure our skills were up to the task.”

Wanda giggles. She can’t imagine a time that Sif’s skills were anything but, but she can also tell by the way that’s phrased that something went awry.

Sif grins too and launches into the tale, tracing patterns on Wanda’s back as she does. “Neither of us were older than seven hundred, barely old enough to hold a sword let alone control it, and Thor had heard that the King was taking a patrol to ambush the enemy forces in Muspelheim. The armory was carefully guarded, of course, but Thor insisted he knew a secret way in…”


End file.
